Dogs of the Military
by Micayasha
Summary: A collection of romantic drabbles amongst the dogs of the military. Mostly RoyxEd, but includes others.
1. Morning After

**x.X.x**

**Morning After**

"What time is it?"

At least, that's what Roy tried to say. It came out quite garbled, as he had to spit out a mouthful of blond braid to do it. He squirmed under the small body sprawled over him, trying to ignore the tickle of golden hair fluttering over his cheek and neck and the cold metal hand resting on his bare abdomen as well as the metal foot sending goose bumps up his leg. Roy was pretty sure there was a bit of drool on his shoulder, and his leg was going numb.

"Damn it, Fullmetal, you're heavy."

A crackly moan from above him. "G'back t'sleep," was the answering mumble.

"Edward, please. It's probably late, and I have work this morning." Roy attempted to push the younger alchemist off of him, but to no avail.

"'S'too early f'r this."

"Not for anyone else in the military. Get up, you lazy ass, or Hawkeye's going to burst in here with her gun waving."

"Y'don't really want t'get up," Ed informed him, a little more awake now that he was being pushed off his warm pillow. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up with his elbow, his eyes still unfocused and bleary.

"Who says?" snorted Roy, sitting up and combing his fingers through his tangled dark hair.

"'Cause you'd've set the alarm if you wanted to. You fell asleep after me and I know you always think about things like that."

Roy flushed, ignoring the astute observation. "Really, Fullmetal, Lt. Hawkeye is going to—"

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call you what—your military name?" Roy raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"Yeah. Not now. Don't call me that when we're in bed."

"Okay, Ed. But you're going to have to let go of my leg."

Ed just clung tighter with his free hand. "Figures you're a morning person, not tired at all. But don't get up. Even if you go to work, it's not like you're gonna do work _anyway_."

For a long moment, they just stare at each other—Roy with one foot on the floor and his pants half on and Edward crouched on the bed with a foot clasped tightly in his automail hand.

Five minutes later, Roy was spitting out blond hair once more. And damn it, Ed _snored._ Loudly.

And Roy had not had such a good night's sleep for as long as he could remember.

* * *

_If anyone in these drabbles is dramatically out of character, please let me know. It's not an easy pairing to write while still keeping their personalities, so I would really appreciate some constructive criticism._


	2. Apple Cider

**x.X.x**

**Apple Cider**

"Damn, your feet are cold, Fullmetal!"

Ed smirked into his neck. "Really? I guess I'll have to warm you up, then."

Roy laughed. "I think I'm perverted enough for the both of us. You should leave the random propositioning to me."

"Hmph," Ed grumbled, sliding his cold foot further up Roy's bare leg into the crook of his knee. "Well, if I won't do, maybe this will warm you up?"

Roy started when a circle of heat pressed against his bare shoulder and steam curled in his peripheral vision. He tilted his head a bit to the side and waited. Edward, realizing what he was waiting _for_, sighed and tipped the cup forward at his lips. Roy took a cautious sip and gave a slow smile with half-lidded eyes. "Delicious. Thank you, Edward."

"Yeah, yeah." Ed's cheeks were slightly flushed, although Roy was sure he'd say it was from the steam, if the blush was remarked upon. "There's some shortbread Winry made, too."

Once again, Roy simply opened his mouth slightly, an expectant (if teasing) look in his eye, and waited. With another louder sigh, Ed took and cookie from the plate on the table and laid it on the extended tongue. Roy chewed, swallowed, and then, as if it were all part of his digestive routine, pulled Edward's face down to his for a long, languid kiss.

"You're so lazy," Ed griped when he pulled away, shaking his head. "Won't even feed yourself."

"With you there to feed me? Never."


	3. Shopping

**x.X.x**

**Shopping**

"Lieutenant, not that I don't completely support and encourage your feminine side, but what are we doing here?"

Riza glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a twitch of irritation in her left eyebrow, and a following twitch of her hand at her side. Roy cringed, knowing she was just itching to reach for her gun. "Because, sir, your military uniform is filthy and you refuse to dry clean it. In fact, I find you're too cheap to buy almost anything that the state doesn't cover. So _I'm_ here to drop it off, and _you_ came along because you have no other clean clothes, so we're going to buy you some. This has nothing to do with my femininity—"

"—or lack thereof—"

Riza glared at him. "—because truth be told, I hate shopping. But I'm clearly your babysitter for the day, and I won't have you walking around in your undergarments. Really, sir, I'd have thought you, a grown man and a colonel to boot, would be more responsible."

"Me?" Roy chuckled. "Really, Lieutenant, I'd have thought you, a hardened soldier and my babysitter to boot, would have no false illusions as to my responsibility."

"Or lack thereof." A rare smile curled at the corners of her mouth.

They walked in silence for a moment, surveying the colourful shops and stalls laden with merchandise, when suddenly Roy burst out, "There!"

Riza jumped, glancing at him with alarm. "There, what?"

"There!" Roy flung an arm in the direction of a female clothing store, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific—"

"That skirt!" Roy turned to her, a smirk spreading over his face. "It's _perfect_ for you!"

Riza studied the skirt in question, frowning. "That's miniscule, sir, it's barely even a skirt. It looks more like a belt."

A hopeful look. "So are you going to try it on?"

Roy spent the rest of the impromptu shopping trip with a gun in his back.


End file.
